


Ad Verecundiam

by DarthSnug (themikeymonster)



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Darth Vader Arrives in the Middle of the Naboo Mission And Ruins Everything, He's only very slightly Darth Vader at all actually, Kinda, M/M, Non-POV Time Traveler, RotS!Darth Vader, Suitless Vader, TPM AU, This! Is! Star Waaaarrrrsss!!!!!, Time Travel Fix-It, which means
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-04-25
Packaged: 2018-10-11 01:50:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10452285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themikeymonster/pseuds/DarthSnug
Summary: Time Traveling Sith Lords seems like a matter for the Council, so Obi-Wan puts the man's sudden arrival at the Temple out of mind. He has other things to worry about after all: his Trials, for one, and his former Master's stubborn insistence that young Anakin Skywalker must be trained.Then the Council approaches him, saying that their reluctant darkside guest is specifically asking forhim,and in standard fashion, Knight Kenobi finds himself getting into all sorts of terrible trouble without much backup at all.





	1. The Once-Future of young Anakin Skywalker

**Author's Note:**

> First posted on Tumblr, in a very conceptual manner. A rehaul of early plot points has occurred. Disregard TCW except where explicitly mentioned. Some Legends stuff treated as Canon, I do what I want, hashtag star wars
> 
> To clarify, Force Shenanigans pull Darth Vader into the past before he and the 501st can murder the Jedi and younglings.

* * *

 

 

The mission Qui-Gon Jinn and Obi-Wan Kenobi received to encourage cooler heads to prevail between the Trade Federation and Naboo - mostly on the Trade Federation's side, given they were the aggressors in the conflict - has turned into an utter and complete mess.

Well. That wasn't entirely accurate. Obi-Wan rubs the seams of his robe sleeve between his fingers, keeping his restless hands busy as he descends further and further into the Temple's lower reaches. The situation has escalated wildly beyond something to be blamed on their bad mission luck. This is no longer about the Naboo mission, and it hasn't been for some weeks now - this is a disturbance that is affecting the entire Order. It just so happens that Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon are somehow in the middle of it, as they do so often find themselves.

Similarly, Obi-Wan finds himself entering parts of the Temple that he never gave much consideration to existing, despite the fact that it is his home. As with nearly all buildings on deep Core worlds, the Order's Temple is measures again larger compared to the architecture of many other planets, built over itself upon layers. There are entire cities in the galaxy smaller and less populous than the Jedi Temple - the massive, beating heart of peace for the last thousand years.

And yet, in its depths lay secrets - perhaps even forgotten by the Jedi who live there now.

If they have been, they aren't for Obi-Wan to rediscover. The path that Master Windu set him upon is clear and singular, without much opportunity to deviate from it unknowingly: a lift down, and then a spiraling staircase down into the dusty depths, and at the end of it a wide, barren hallway. Though he's been told that nothing sinister or dangerous awaits him down there - or at least nothing that threatens him - Obi-Wan feels a creeping sense that something ferocious and wild lurks in the heavy press of the raw Force.

It feels like a test, or another Trial - and he should know: his Knight's Trial was only a handful of days ago. He hopes that the Council would not set another before him so soon, but he can't deny the possibility. His learnership was uncertain, fraught with perils and its own tests of faith. He is a Knight raised at the knee of a maverick stubbornly flying in the face of the Council. And this? This descent into the heart of the Temple? It very much reminds Obi-Wan of the stories of the ancient Jedi who came before him.

The air down here is almost stifling - or maybe it's the Force itself, restless and wild. The upper reaches of the Temple are wide and tall: halls and windows open to the Coruscanti sky, allowing the sun to break in and cast light over everyone that walks inside. Where he is now is far from the center of the Temple, but there are still tons and tons of stone and duracrete around him, the build of a structure meant to last rather than uplift. There is no art or grace to the pillars that support the ceiling overhead and the Temple far above: they are thick, and sturdy, and strong.

At the far end of the hallway, in plain view and with plenty of warning, stand two sentinels outside a single heavy doorway. He does not recognize them by their manner, or their weapons. It shouldn't trouble Obi-Wan; outside the Council, it seems unlikely that even after a lifetime, every Jedi would meet and come to recognize each other. He still feels as though he has suddenly uncovered something strange and twisted beneath a surface appearance of rationale and rules.

He half expects the sentinels to move to block the door from him as he completes the long walk down the hallway to them, but the one on right only stirs to reach over and palm the door open. They unlock and part slightly slower than most: the metal is thick, with many layers. He recognizes that it would take some time to cut through it even with a lightsaber on the highest setting.

There is no ominous clunk when the doors lock open to allow him through, and yet he hesitates. The hallway within, pocked with entrances left wide open and dimmed, is lit so that no shadows are cast on the floor or walls. It still seems somehow unnaturally dark within - almost black, filled with impossible shadows. A sense of tension crackles the air, hot and heavy like an overhead storm about to burst.

The shallow nod he spares the two sentinels is one part respect and one part pulling his defenses up: breathe in, breathe out, and listen to the Force.

It tugs him gently inside.

Obi-Wan steps through the doorway without hurry, listening to it slide and lock shut behind him. There's no point in stalling any further. He's not sure what the Council expects of him, only that he's been sent down here to hear out their 'guest' - he'd gone to Qui-Gon for advice, even, puzzled and upset. It had been a singularly unhelpful experience. Qui-Gon had looked at him with one of his strange looks, the same he levels at most contacts they meet on missions that Obi-Wan thinks he feels an affinity for, but doesn't necessarily like.

 _"You are a knight now, Obi-Wan,"_ his former master had said. _"Trusting your own judgement isn't something you have had issue with before."_

Obi-Wan had not quite managed to bite back that he'd never dealt with a time traveling Sith before, either. That predictably hadn't garnered him any help from Qui-Gon Jinn. Besides which - the path down here has been more than long enough that Obi-Wan has had ample time to remember all the times his judgement has lead him astray. It seems folly to try relying on it now, when facing a threat that the Order had thought a thousand years behind them.

Obi-Wan reaches the alcove lit by a blazing red energy field, and catches the tail end of a prowling pace that sends the remnants of of a shaky shudder up his spine. For a moment, Obi-Wan doesn't see a human man - he sees the creature they fought on Naboo, the stark tattoos, the savage snarl of a grin, the glaring poisonous yellow of its eyes. If it weren't for the energy field between them, Obi-Wan would reach for the lightsaber he wasn't allowed to bring down here.

Calling the thing a 'warrior' is a slight to warriors - this is a creature of violence. It moves with a loose and sinuous spine, more predator than reasonable sentient, strength gather into shoulders that yet remain dropped and ready. Its steps roll and its focus swings and sweeps and searches for weakness. It is the manner of an animal forced into a cage much too small for it, with eyes that seem to glow like hot coals in the artificial shadows cast by its own malevolence.

Those eyes light upon Obi-Wan. Recognition flashes across its face, (human; of course, human, not the horned visage of a zabrak at all), and the shadows surge and ebb. "Obi-Wan," it says - rather: he says, urgent and glad, and rushes to the front of the cell as if Obi-Wan is here to rescue him. "You're back."

"I'm back," Obi-Wan agrees lightly, at a loss as to what else to say. He studies the Sith, unable to stop comparing this one to the one they faced on Naboo, and find the comparison now lacking. Despite the unpleasant prickling of his presence and the embers of his eyes, he isn't anything like the zabrak. That creature had been tight and vicious like any variety of hand-sized blades meant to be stabbed into guts or organs and twisted before being torn free.

This Sith, secreted into the belly of the Jedi Temple, is nothing short of a roiling storm, more a force of nature than anything so precise - even in glad relief, he towers like tidal waves come to dash against Obi-Wan's shields. With efficient familiarity, the Sith looks over Obi-Wan, as if he has done it a hundred million times before, and his sickly bright eyes flicker oddly when he belatedly takes notice of the right side of Obi-Wan's head.

"Qui-Gon?" he asks, frowning. It isn't concern, not quite - it's difficult to pinpoint exactly what it is.

"Master Jinn is fine, if tired," Obi-Wan says mildly. He feels the absence of his padawan braid keenly. It's been a part of his life for many years, and though he has always looked forward to no longer wearing it, a large part of him misses it.

"He's _alive_ ," the Sith says, surprised and triumphant. The air seems to crackle strangely; Obi-Wan feels the hair on the nape of his neck stand on end, and his skin prickle with chill.

"Yes," he answers briskly. Through luck or skill or forewarning, they made it through the Naboo mission relatively unscathed. The Sith had called them a 'vision of the past' - the reminder of a future that had originally seen Obi-Wan's master dead makes his words sharper than he means them. "He has been preoccupied lately with his campaign to convince the Council to train the boy, so you'll have to forgive his absence."

Young Anakin Skywalker's once-future hears the edges but doesn't acknowledge them, caught in some kind of strange revelation of his own. The same one, perhaps, that Obi-Wan himself had when the creature had fallen dead and Qui-Gon still stood living: _the future is mutable._ If the Sith's words and warnings can be believed in, things have changed from how they once played out.

Obi-Wan is sorely aware he understands too little of the Sith to navigate this situation safely. It feels much longer ago than it is since Qui-Gon and he arrived at the landing pad closest to the Temple, with the Queen of Naboo and young Anakin in tow. They'd parted ways - the Queen with the Senator from Naboo, and the Jedi back to their Temple, with the boy. Obi-Wan had already drawn the obvious conclusions about his master's behavior and the midichlorian test he'd performed. He'd thought the boy would be sent to the Corps - a fate he himself only narrowly avoided, but that would be a massive improvement to whatever life young Anakin had been living on Tatooine.

It's a rare chance to observe someone seeing the Temple with fresh eyes. Obi-Wan had been amusing himself with young Anakin's overawed expression at the foot of the Temple doors when the Force had - done something. It was difficult, even with weeks and countless meetings, to describe what the Force had done, except that it had been terrible. Frightening. Catastrophic, even. And then, as if from thin air, the Sith had appeared.

Until Windu and Yoda had called for him earlier today, Obi-Wan had managed to forget the way the disoriented Sith had focused on _him_ , had accepted _his_ suggestion to go before the Council when they'd realized the Sith was no immediate threat, and wouldn't be, not when faced with thirteen masters. He hasn't forgotten how quickly both the Sith and Qui-Gon arrived at the decision to conceal the Sith's identity from the other Jedi. He's still isn't sure he's forgiven himself for going along with it.

Obi-Wan turns from the Sith, tucking his hands into his sleeves. "The Council has informed me that you've been asking for me," he says, observing the hallway outside the cell. There are many more dimmed alcoves beyond this cell than Obi-Wan is strictly comfortable with; he would like to think they haven't seen use since they've been built, but he thinks, too, that the seams where the fields stretch are far too clean for that - and he does not contribute that to the cleaning droid humming away within the cell catty corner to the one that holds their most reluctant guest.

" - yes," the Sith - the man - says. He sounds unsure as to the question implied therein. There's a faint notion of: _shouldn't I have?_

He feels the pressure of the Sith's attention on him, and fights to show no sign of apprehension or fear. There are other ways to be dangerous than wielding a lightsaber, when one is sensitive to the Force, but Obi-Wan still sorely misses the weight of his. If he is somehow overcome by the Sith, having it would only serve to arm their 'guest.' The life of a single Knight counts for very little against the Sith's escape - Obi-Wan knows this. It would have made him feel better to have it, though.

Turning his attention from the cells, Obi-Wan pivots to face the so-called Sith again. "I confess I am curious," he says, approaching the energy field with more confidence than he has. Neither of them are armed, which is faintly reassuring - the Sith is a handspan taller than Obi-Wan and likely stronger; an overhead swing would be devastating if it landed directly. "What do you think you could possibly get from speaking with me?"

Haltingly, he says, "I want - I need your help." Simple words that sound pulled and painful. The dark shadows of the room have ebbed, but the electric crackle of the so-called Sith's presence continues to rush in like the tide. His yellow-red eyes search Obi-Wan's face urgently and still with far too much familiarity.

Master Windu said that the Sith had been inquiring after Obi-Wan for weeks, just about the time that they would have made it to Naboo forewarned of the creature that had hunted them down there. His manner is artless and unprepared, as if even with all that time, he hadn't found the words he wanted to use.

"You said Qui-Gon is alive," he says in a rush, imploring and raw. "That means that things can be changed. That means - it doesn't have to happen the way it did before. Don't you understand, Obi-Wan? I can _fix_ things."

"Fix," Obi-Wan echoes in flat disbelief.

With a hot flash of injured dignity, the Sith retorts, "yes, 'fix.' I already did, didn't I? Qui-Gon Jinn is still alive."

"He is," he answers baldly, because there is no quip to make against his former master still alive, and not fallen on the battlefield the way it might have been. This time the Sith seems to sense he's tread too close to something, shifting behind the energy field as though he wants to move closer. He's already dangerously close to it. An errant gesture could leave him with serious burns that would require immediate bacta treatment.

Obi-Wan has the uncanny sense as if they've somehow become shut into a small space together, rather than a cell block with a hallway wide enough for two or three Jedi to fight side-by-side. While normally fairly free with his bodily space, as most Jedi are, Obi-Wan feels the urge to step away from the Sith.

This is not personal, Obi-Wan reminds himself. Though the Sith has saved his former master's life with his warnings, and asked for Obi-Wan by name, he is an agent of the Council in this matter. They would not have allowed him to come down here and speak with the Sith without reason.

He concedes nothing.

"Alright," Obi-Wan says, standing his ground, "so you've saved my Master's life. That earns you my gratitude, not my assistance."

Annoyed, the Sith clenches his jaw for a moment, regarding Obi-Wan with gleaming eyes. "Aren't you at least a little bit curious about all this?" he demands.

Obi-Wan says nothing, offers nothing further, but he is. Of course he is. He fails to see the Sith's point, however - it's not as though he would do something inadvisable for the sake of it. No matter how odd the presence of a Sith that seems to be the first recorded instance of known time travel is. Or how unusual that it was that the man hadn't seemed to have _meant_ to time travel, to his own past at that. After all, he'd forgotten the Sith's existence in the wake of fighting the creature on Naboo that they'd been warned about, and going through his Trials, and - well, there was the matter of young Anakin, who is currently living with Qui-Gon as his ward, but -

Obi-Wan reflects with the realization that as soon as he'd had a moment to breathe, he _would_ have remembered the Sith's presence, and more: his strange reaction to Obi-Wan himself. Barely two words have passed between Obi-Wan and young Anakin since their meeting on Tatooine, and yet his once-future seems to favor Obi-Wan's words over Qui-Gon's. How does a Sith come about learning to listen to a Jedi Knight?

He'd wondered that the entire flight to Naboo, and only kept thinking: _Qui-Gon died._

And when he died, what had happened to the young Anakin and Obi-Wan of that time? What kind of terrible things must they have done to result in the man that stands before him? Who called himself Darth Vader with the rasp of a wounded man, so many weeks ago on the steps of the Temple entrance - more Fallen Jedi than kin to that creature they faced on Naboo.

"Endlessly," Obi-Wan admits shamelessly to the Sith's face. "But if you're looking for rescue, you don't understand me nearly as well as you think you do. Nothing you can offer me is worth unleashing a Sith on the galaxy."

"Or maybe you're just not giving me enough credit," Vader counters with a kind of wounded dignity, as if they know one enough well enough to banter like this, but they must have - in one future.

When he's not flailing around, half in a panic and half in a tantrum, he plays the part of the wrongly accused quite well. Obi-Wan remembers, too, that despite the gratuitous gnashing of teeth that he'd done, he'd allowed the Council to take him into custody, and had not fought against them when he'd been taken away. And he clearly views Obi-Wan as some kind of ally.

"Alright," Obi-Wan says, putting his hands on his hips and cocking his head. "But if you want credit, you'll have to earn it. You have my full attention, Darth Vader."

Vader grimaces. He shifts back from the energy field between them, observing Obi-Wan's posture. "Do you want to save the Jedi or not?" he asks challengingly.

How ludicrous, Obi-Wan thinks - as if the Order has not withstood everything these last thousand years, and even a Darksider infiltrating their home. "I'm afraid it will take much more than a pair of Sith to destroy the Order," he counters, unimpressed. "We don't stand alone. The entire Republic is at our back, as we are at theirs."

A sharp and bitter noise breaks out of Vader, and the ebbing shadows crackle. "The _Republic_ ," he says scornfully. "And since when has the 'Republic' been good for anything? They're a _sham_ ." Sharp, and a little wild, Vader bares his teeth. "They won't save us- their hand will be the one that crushes us! They'll hold us responsible for _everything_ \- they'll holostream our deaths and failures at all hours for entertainment and blame us for not trying harder!" His eyes shine with feral light over sharp teeth as he says, "no one is going to _save us_ unless we save ourselves."

The words of a liar or an alarmist, except the Force is too heavy with shadows and strange energy for Obi-Wan to say so with certainty. The Dark surges under the sway of the Sith's towering presence; the hallway in which he stands, brightly lit and barren of living things, feels dark and murky and filled with cobwebs. It does not brighten or sing harmony, nor does it dim or clang with dissonance. Obi-Wan wants to call them the words of a liar - but the angle of the man's brow, the squint of his eyes and the manner with which his mouth turns down even over vicious words? Those incline Obi-Wan to believe that he is telling the truth.

Meeting the Sith's feral, gleaming eyes through the distortion of the energy field, Obi-Wan says, "And if I wish to save the Jedi, what would I have to do?"

Still flushed with emotion, Vader says, "You'll need my help to do it." His breath steadies as he calms a bit, carrying on: "I'm the only one that knows the truth - he thinks I'm on his side, but he no longer holds any power over me." He bites the words out, choppy and sharp and resentful, but his gaze is overly familiar and ungrudging on Obi-Wan. "You'll have to get me out of here so I can put an end to this before it all starts."

"I see," Obi-Wan says, light and dry. "Unfortunately, the Council is unlikely to agree to that. They consider you a danger, you see, and for the time being I'm not sure I disagree." Vader's face darkens reproachfully, and Obi-Wan shrugs. "Traditionally speaking, the Jedi don't take well to darksiders."

"Funny," he says with gleaming eyes narrowed to slits, "that's not the opinion I remember you having."

"That will be then," Obi-Wan says, brushing aside the implications impatiently, " _this_ is now, and _now_ we've only narrowly survived an attack by one Sith, and we have you, claiming to be from a future so awful we should ally ourselves with our natural enemy to prevent it."

"I'm not asking you to ally with _every_ Sith," Vader says tartly, crossing his arms. Hearing the words, he affirms: "As a matter of fact, don't. You can't trust them. I'm asking you to help _me_."

"And you've made several very compelling arguments as to why I should trust a _Sith_ , Darth Vader," Obi-Wan says, barely biting off the sharpest edges of his taunt. Vader's only response is to look tried beyond endurance, gazing sullenly into the middle distance with an expression Obi-Wan recognizes mostly from the other side. "Doomsay all you want about the fall of the Order," he continues, his fingers digging into his hips, "but until you can convince me that you're committed to changing that, I have very few reasons to help you."

" _Fine_ ," Vader spits, glowering at him. "You want a 'compelling argument,' master? How about the complete extinction of every last Jedi on the order of the Sith Lord? All of the Jedi. Every last one - branded traitors, and hunted down, and murdered. He would have the entire galaxy believe them betrayers. You don't _understand_ ." His eyes brighten, feverish and cornered, and he gestures widely, his gloved hand grasping. "The - the _power_ this Sith Lord holds. He's the most powerful Sith in millennia. You won't be able to defeat him without me."

Obi-Wan watches him, muted. The so-called Sith's composure has broken, like it was when he first appeared at the Temple entrance, and his gaze is too familiar as it dashes to and fro over Obi-Wan's face, reading him with ease.

"He'll kill everyone," Vader says desperately. "Even you."

His life has been threatened before - it is a given as he is a Jedi, and with the Sith in the picture Obi-Wan has already accepted the fact that his life will be in danger until the Sith are removed. Darth Vader dooming him to his face does not disturb him in the least.

What disturbs him is what _doesn't_ get said. What disturbs him is how Vader holds him apart from the other Jedi, in special esteem, and calls him 'master' with ease and comfort. What disturbs him is the implication that young Anakin did not learn the Force as a Sith, but perhaps first as a Jedi. What disturbs him is that Darth Vader foretold of the creature on Naboo, Darth Maul, and said: _Qui-Gon will die._

"I see," Obi-Wan says. He does. He does, or at least a great deal more than he did. The world beneath his feet threatens to spin away into oblivion, but Obi-Wan locks down on the sensation, and packs it up and sets it aside to deal with later.

Darth Vader's stakes in the situation are much more personal than Obi-Wan had assumed - than perhaps anyone had. Obi-Wan can not make that same mistake. Taking a moment, he carefully removes the 'I' that has been shoved into the equation by Darth Vader, and looks clinically at what he has been presented with so far.

"Well," he says momentarily, "you _are_ powerful, but one Sith lord and one Jedi knight can not possibly be enough to defeat this master Sith. I'm not sure how you expect the two of us to succeed where you think the entire Council can not."

"The Council failed me before," Vader snarls, his hands flexing restlessly. "I told them _everything_ , and they failed me! They'd let her -" He cuts himself off, jaw clenched and eyes burning as he glares through the energy field. His thoughts and his feelings are getting the better of him, but he struggles against them, his jaw working and his chest heaving. The Dark power that he's venting like a starship vents heat crackles faintly like lightning threatening to strike.

"It has to be you," Vader says with all the faith and certainty of a zealot. He says, "it _has_ to be you, Obi-Wan. Both of us, together. We can stop the Sith from taking over. None of it has to happen - not the way it did before. We can stop all of it."

Obi-Wan studies the man behind the energy field, crossing his arms across his chest. He understands very little of Darth Vader's dire warnings of the future - the Order fallen, the Jedi eradicated, a Sith lord in a place of power to turn the Republic against them. Someone much more clever and subtle than the creature they faced on Naboo. It had taken two masters and Obi-Wan, nearly a knight, to take it down - and even then they only narrowly succeeded.

And in Vader's future, the entire Council failed to defeat the master Sith.

"You have failed to convince me to break you out, Darth Vader," Obi-Wan says plainly. He watches the imploring expression on Vader's face fade and curl, like burning flimsi - hot edges of hurt leaving only sullen ash behind. It stings, but he can't take the words back or change them, not here. "I suppose you can try again the next time you see me," he adds, dropping his gaze to the seams of the energy field. "It should be soon enough. I look forward to the attempt."

He doesn't need to look at Vader to sense something like durasteel blast doors crashing down around him. Vader stands stock still, his arms hanging, his fists clenched tightly at his side. Obi-Wan fancies that the feral light of his eyes are like blaster bolts, searing his skin, accusing him once more.

It's as if Vader doesn't know him at all.

Obi-Wan inclines his head, as would have been appropriate from one Jedi knight bidding farewell to another, then turns on his heel and heads back to the heavy, plated door that accesses the rest of the Temple. He has a great deal to think about, and to plan - and at least one master he needs to consult with, whether that master likes it or not.

Although certainly first, he will have to face Masters Windu and Yoda, and what they would have overheard. It is a pity the future Obi-Wan never taught young Anakin to sense being listened in on as Quinlan Vos once taught him. If this partnership works out, he will certainly have to rectify that at some point.

And he will be back.


	2. thou still let’st slip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After meeting Darth Vader and hearing him out, Obi-Wan must decide what he intends to do with his knowledge of future events, and just how far he's willing to go to achieve his aims.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Before the game is afoot thou still let’st slip." - William Shakespeare, _Henry IV Part I,_ 1597

* * *

Long after Obi-Wan Kenobi leaves the cells behind him, the words spoken down there continue to dog his heels. They slip along the worn hems of his robes, twine about his feet and crawl up the folds of his clothes to repeat themselves lovingly in his ears: _he'll kill everyone_ , they whisper in quiet despair, _even you_.

His heart, heavy as it is, beats fast. It drives his steps up the stairs at a slightly faster clip than normal, and Obi-Wan is thankful for the prolonged lift ride that gives him time to try centering himself again.

It isn't fear humming through him. Obi-Wan is uncomfortably aware that it isn't fear, especially after this last mission - especially leaving the crackling, creeping feeling of the Dark side of the Force down below. He feels as though his heart is playing some kind of cruel trick on him, but Vader's rage - Vader's grief felt entirely too real, even if his words and warnings sounded like the ravings of a mad man.

Forcing it to calm with slow, steady breaths, Obi-Wan hopes that it is ravings. He _hopes_ that it is the paranoias of a damaged man, twisted by the Dark, disoriented by the Force and times and therefore jumping at shadows. But if there is anything to his words or delusions - if there is something _in_ those shadows that Obi-Wan and the Order itself can not see - then ignoring them will be their downfall. If the Order has truly fallen once in the future, then Obi-Wan can not just stand idly by and let it fall again.

By the time the lift opens to Masters Windu and Yoda, Obi-Wan feels as capable as he ever is to face them calmly. It's slightly disconcerting to be escorted by the Masters themselves, but when they arrive to a room where Master Tholme awaits, he understand a bit better. He should have guessed it from just the presence of the cleaning droid that had spied on his meeting with Darth Vader. Tholme is not nearly so old as he looks, standing grizzled and grim with a fresh red scar that cuts across his brow and into his hair.

It's unfortunate that Master Tholme was the only one to come away from the encounter with the Dark warrior wounded. His timely arrival undoubtedly saved both Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan. If he had not been there that day to tag into the battle  -

Obi-Wan cuts the thought short. It is not the time to dwell on it.

"Congratulations on the successful completion of your Trials, Knight Kenobi," Tholme says perfunctorily, as if there was little point in saying so on a foregone conclusion.

"Thank you, Master Tholme," Obi-Wan says. The Trials certainly hadn't felt like such a simple matter, nor had Obi-Wan the fullest confidence in himself to pass them - but Tholme's plain words are much less embarrassing than the effusive sincerity the other masters have shown him. "I see you've collected quite the charming scar for yourself."

Tholme's gaze seems a little sharper than normal as Obi-Wan moves across the holoprojector set into the floor. Many rooms like this one are equipped to accommodate even a floor model, respectful of the various heights of the Jedi within their halls - from the Jedi larger still than Qui-Gon, to Yoda and the younglings. Given what he suspects will be displayed, Obi-Wan is unlikely to find it necessary to watch very closely, which will save him a neck cramp at least.

"A scar is better than the alternative," Tholme says humorlessly. It must have been a much more serious wound than Obi-Wan suspected, if the Healers were unable to erase the evidence completely. "Were he a better swordsman, with a single blade, the damage would have less easy to dismiss."

"I thought so as well," Obi-Wan says, surprised. Though he's spent the weeks since Naboo speaking to masters about the incident, going over it forwards and backwards and off to the left, this is the first time he's heard someone say what had been bothering him - a double sided 'saber, while effective with the style that the Sith used, had ultimately been his downfall. "It was as though the Sith was meant to terrorize the Jedi, not to be entirely effective against them."

"His style and weapon would have been an effective countermeasure against most Jedi," Tholme corrects. "In fact, the most common style a Knight uses is Ateru. It's even the chosen form of Master Yoda, and shares some traits with Master Windu's Vaapad."

And against Ateru, the Sith's form had been much stronger. Obi-Wan had seen the Sith retain control of the battle against Qui-Gon, who normally overpowered his opponents with ease due to his strength and speed. Obi-Wan himself had fallen prey to it, only allowed to defend or attack as the Sith had seen fit. Tholme's arrival had been the only thing that had interrupted the false stalemate.

Those few moments of not being under attack had been all that Obi-Wan needed to adjust his methods and try something different against the Sith. As unfamiliar with fighting against a two-sided 'saber as he was, he had still be able to use what he had learned in sparing with his peers against the Sith.

"No Jedi knows only one form, Master Tholme," he argues. "All a master would have to do is switch forms."

"Gentlemen," Master Windu interrupts, not unkindly. He nods to Tholme, who activates the holoprojector. It loads the recording, and between the four of them, Obi-Wan steps into being with stiff precision. He's quickly joined by Darth Vader in a harried rush. There's only a very faint distortion between them that indicates the cell's energy field.

They all seem to take it for granted that Obi-Wan knew that he would be watched. In retrospect, Obi-Wan thinks it was probably wise - the masters themselves could immediately dispatch the sentinels outside if Obi-Wan were attacked by the Sith. Leaving it to their own judgement might have had them interrupting a moment where Darth Vader decides to confess important information.

Truthfully, it's almost certain that they would have interrupted. Darth Vader speaks more freely the higher his emotions run, the more the Dark side flows through him - and the more it flows through him, the more something strange happens: the holo that the cleaning droid recorded of the two of them judders and crackles in a strange kind of empathy with how Obi-Wan's skin had prickled and the hair on his neck stood on end.

The awful energy he felt - the crackling, unending tide of Vader's presence washing in, pushing and shoving on his mental shields - might not have been as metaphorical as he thought. It's a distressing thought, even though in the next breath, Obi-Wan can rationalize that Sith may have entire different ways of using the Force. Where someone with powers bestowed upon them by the Light may have some skill with nerve manipulation, what is suggested here is something much more powerful.

The masters don't so much as frown at the holo - and perhaps it is simply Obi-Wan's own nerves - but they seem tense about the way the display distorts as Vader's words pitch like an unruly sea, shakes like it'll break into data shards when Vader clenches his fist and speaks of the _power_ his old master holds. The holo scatters into data points for brief seconds before reforming: in miniature, Obi-Wan stands there before the sharp, expressive shape of Darth Vader - Jedi versus Sith, arguing back and forth over the fate of the Republic and the Galaxy at large.

If only their discussion had actually been so principled. Jedi or Sith, whatever the words they'd _used_ , they are only two men with their hearts on the line: Darth Vader says _everyone, even you_ , and Obi-Wan's heart commits to _the Order must be saved_.

He had thought that he'd outgrown this sort of thing - this sinister trick his own heart plays on him when someone looks at him as if the galaxy's fate rests upon his shoulders. When it rises to the challenge and says: _yes, yes, of course, anything, I will do anything in my power (break my back and forsake my ideals) to help you._

"What do you think, Knight Kenobi?" Mace Windu asks from across the holoprojector, where in miniature, Obi-Wan bows and turns away from the motionless form of Vader.

When the stakes are personal, most people are entirely too predictable in the least predictable ways, Obi-Wan thinks. Darth Vader turns his back on his master - Obi-Wan stands before the Grand Master of the Order that raised him and says "I did not sense deception," and tries not to give away that it means this: he believes Darth Vader is telling the truth and that they have no choice but to work with the Sith to ensure their own survival.

The Jedi will not trust a Sith Lord, but - perhaps they'll trust one of their own. It feels as though Vader's words will continue to haunt him to the end of his days, like the tremorous warnings of the Force. The Force itself remains reticent, other than the steady tug that pulls Obi-Wan back down to the belly of the Temple, where a Sith Lord awaits judgement. It's a particular kind of itch that Obi-Wan half expects to lead him Qui-Gon's way.

While Obi-Wan remains unconvinced that breaking Darth Vader out of the Temple's holding cells is a viable decision, he knows to which path he has committed. The Order must be saved. The master Sith must be defeated. Vader thinks that Obi-Wan is the key and so he must be, and together they must become the blade that will strike Vader's master down. The fate of the galaxy hangs in the balance.

Without so much as a breath to give him away, Obi-Wan Kenobi girds himself, and the Masters' interrogation begins.

\--

There is pathetic little information available regarding the Sith - Obi-Wan already knows this. He's already been in search of it. Qui-Gon knows something of the subject, but is reluctant to share this information with Obi-Wan, so he had taken it upon himself to go down to the archives for what might be found there. It's nearly nothing. Jocasta Nu had frowned faintly and apologetically explained that some dangerous knowledges were forbidden from all but the Council masters.

What he was able to discover after hours spent searching is this: the Sith are the ancient enemy of the Jedi. They're Force users with knowledge and traditions steeped in secrecy - theirs is a knowledge far vaster than any Fallen Jedi could come upon naturally - centuries of study, of brutal and inhumane experiments, of sacrificing their very selves to the Dark side.

For all that philosophers have claimed that there is no such thing as 'evil' in the galaxy, that thing on Naboo had put aside any doubts in Obi-Wan's mind. It barely could have even been called a living thing anymore - so steeped in the Dark was it that its very presence had become a twisted, gaping wound in the Force, rather than something that exists at peace within it. There _is_ evil, and it calls itself Sith.

And so does the man in the belly of the Temple. And yet -

Obi-Wan's feet still beneath him, mere meters from the 'saber salle door. 'Darth Vader' he named himself, and Yoda had nodded and revealed it to be an ancient Sith title. Vader towers and storms in the Force, his eyes lit with an unnatural and sickly light, more like an animal than the human or near-human he appears to be. He is dangerous, and Dark, beyond any doubt - he has killed and will kill again. It clings to him like spiders' silk, like tar or sap or toxins, and roils in his heart like violent storms of fire and searing rain.

But sucking, twisted wound in the Force, he is not. Compared to the Sith on Naboo, the man in the cell is no more unpleasant than any of the various smugglers or corrupt rulers that he and Qui-Gon have dealt with over the years.

Obi-Wan wonders if this is part of the great trap of it: to look at evil and think at first that it does not seem so bad, until one is swallowed by it. The words continue to haunt him  - the Sith's certainty that _"it has to be you."_

Some small part of him warns that if he falters, he will fall off this thin line he balances upon. He breathes, and proceeds.

The training salle that he's followed the faint suggestions of Qui-Gon's presence down to is little used and out of the way. It's fallen into disfavor among the knights and masters. Obi-Wan remembers that sometimes he and other padawans would make trips down here to hide, pretending as if they were practicing 'saberplay when they would rather read or practice at gambling games.

Before he even sees him, he also senses that young Anakin will be inside. The spark of irritation is quickly snuffed out, though it tries to kindle when he sees Qui-Gon moving through the most basic of kata with his lightsaber still clipped to his belt. His outer robes have been removed so that the position and line of his muscles can clearly be seen by the small boy standing with him. Qui-Gon glances down and then emphatically shifts his foot, until the boy, looking irritated and bored with the exercise, sighs heavily and tries to fix his posture.

Obi-Wan is not in a position to judge, he reminds himself. Besides, he has long since moved out of Qui-Gon's quarters. His former master has no further obligation to him - let him fly in the face of the Council all he likes about this. Obi-Wan moves to the stand of benches to sit and watch. Darth Vader is going nowhere, and neither is the master Sith.

Despite young Anakin's impatience with the entire practice of kata, Obi-Wan thinks that he is performing well. Qui-Gon has been forbidden to teach him, and so can only show without correcting. The boy's hips and shoulders aren't quite correct for the stance he's being taught, but his feet are on spot. For someone who has never done kata in their life, it's a good place to start.

Obi-Wan firmly does not guess at which Jedi would have taught Vader in his youth, with Qui-Gon dead. He has a few notions so ludicrous that even contemplating them will keep him up at night wondering at the impossible future.

The training continues on for some time, despite Anakin's evident boredom with it, and discomfort when he notices that Obi-Wan is sitting on the benches. Qui-Gon pretends ignorance of his presence, but Obi-Wan isn't inclined to interrupt. He still needs time to sort through his first rash thoughts and feelings about the troubles at hand - time to watch young Anakin and compare him against the Sith in the belly of the Temple: the possibility of his future.

Perhaps that future has already been averted with Qui-Gon at his side - it's difficult to tell. Young Anakin doesn't want to disappoint Qui-Gon - Obi-Wan remembers feeling exactly that same way. It's clear to him that the boy looks up to Qui-Gon. Maybe the old master can inspire him against whatever it was that lead him down that Dark path that Vader took.

Anakin's impatience and discomfort wins out before Qui-Gon's stubbornness does. "Mister Qui-Gon," the boy complains, slouching in his stance, shoulders falling completely out of position, "I'm not learning _anything_ like this, except to stand funny."

"You should be learning patience, young one," Qui-Gon says, a little less stiffly than Obi-Wan expects of him.

"I'm trying," he says with a frustrated sigh, fixing Qui-Gon with a reproachful gaze. "I know waiting is important, you know - I'm not stupid. Mom told me about being patient. There's just not a point right now."

"Better to learn it when you don't need it, than to need it any not have it," the old master says, but he shifts out of the wide stance and into a the tall stature of a master. "And now we bow." He sketches one, shallow as is appropriate from a master to an apprentice - still deeper than one master to another, in thanks and recognition for the honor of being a padawan's guide. Anakin only reluctant bends into his own, moving from the hips rather than the spine. Qui-Gon doesn't bother to correct him, gently prodding him on to return to his quarters.

Though the boy mostly keeps his head ducked, Obi-Wan catches the sharp, searching look that Anakin shoots his way, pointed and wary. Caught unaware, he only manages a very thin, insincere smile before the boy is out the door.

Obi-Wan feels more balanced now than when he came in, taking solace in his former master's presence, but he still feels far from peaceful. Were his shielding any weaker, he's certain he'd be broadcasting as badly as Vader, in similar tangles of conflicting thoughts and feelings. He must be utterly transparent to those who know him, however; it only takes one good look from Qui-Gon before the old master's unassailable composure softens into something approachable.

"Obi-Wan," he greets, moving off the salle floor to join him on the benches. "You appear troubled, my young knight."

"I know better than to play sabacc with you, master," he says. "I'm afraid you know me too well."

"You still surprise me from time to time," Qui-Gon disagrees, leaning back and folding his arms across his chest. "You're back from speaking with Vader already?"

"It wasn't exactly a long conversation," Obi-Wan admits. "I think the the meeting with Master Yoda and Master Windu afterwards took at least twice as long. Apparently, he's been rather tight lipped with them, despite saying that he wants to change the future."

"The Sith are not exactly an order known for being free with information," Qui-Gon says thoughtfully. "What did he have to say to you?"

"Perhaps they should be known for their dramatic flair," Obi-Wan dryly suggests. "There is a great deal of doom in our future, according to our guest."

Qui-Gon waits in silence, familiar with the turns of Obi-Wan's moods. It is easier to be flippant about such things than to face them directly, but it isn't entirely productive.  His master would be dead, if not for Darth Vader. If he doesn't take responsibility, then the entire Order will be lost.

"You already know what he had to say about Naboo," Obi-Wan says, and he still feels the shudder of horror that went through him when they encountered that beast. "You were the first Jedi we lost to the Sith. You were not the last."

Qui-Gon listens to this with the same stoic patience he displays on most missions when their contacts begin with their passionate appeals. He strokes his beard in thoughtful silence when Obi-Wan says no more, and freshly reminded of what might have happened, Obi-Wan watches his master closely.

Qui-Gon has many, many years of missions ahead of him, but Obi-Wan isn't so sure that he's up to strain of training another Padawan, and certainly not one so demanding as young Anakin. He won't be ready to be knighted in the usual decade, and Qui-Gon devoted even more than that to training Obi-Wan.

At last, Qui-Gon sits forward, his brow still wrinkled in thought. "You shouldn't waste your thoughts on what once was - or would have been, Obi-Wan. There have been many times you or I could have been killed on our missions. This is no different than that."

"For us, perhaps," he says, although it isn't. He stills feels the residual fear he'd felt when facing the creature on Naboo - Darth Vader's furious warnings ringing in his ears and realizing for the first time that Qui-Gon was not quite so young as he once had been, that the Darksiders they'd faced before had not been trained to _kill_ Jedi. A sudden, quiet certainty had crashed in that this thing truly had been trained for that very purpose. "For Darth Vader, it has come and past."

"Hm." Qui-Gon cuts a glances at Obi-Wan from the corner of his eye. "And what concerns Vader concerns you."

Chagrined, Obi-Wan admits, "his words have proven difficult to ignore, master."

"Yes, I would think so. You have always been overly concerned with the future when your mind should be on the present," Qui-Gon says, shifting. Obi-Wan wants to groan aloud, but it would be unseemly behavior for a senior padawan, let alone a knight. "Furthermore, you do have the bad habit of taking on concerns and responsibilities that are not yours to shoulder."

"The situation at hand is slightly more complex than whatever habit of mine you disapprove of in any given situation," Obi-Wan says sorely. "Darth Vader is seeking to change things. Whatever his master used to tempt him to the Dark, he must have betrayed. They are not allies any longer."

"Bitterness against old masters does not make for the most grounded of ambitions," Qui-Gon reminds him with a pinch in his brow. "The Sith failed as an order because they couldn't stop fighting one another: they were greedy and jealous of each other's power. Just because Vader wants to kill his master now doesn't mean once it's done, he won't betray you as well, Obi-Wan."

"I know," Obi-Wan says, trying not to let the impatience he feels into his voice. "But we can't let that stop us from using the information that he's willing to share with me - not if the Order is on the line, Qui-Gon. I have proven myself in my Trials. I can and I will survive anything he throws at me."

The look that Qui-Gon gives him is sharp and disproving, but Obi-Wan isn't his padawan to be cowed any longer, no matter how it stings that Qui-Gon _still_ does not trust him. His former master shifts up onto his feet, though not without effort. Although they both escaped the duel on Naboo relatively unscathed, Qui-Gon's recovery has not been nearly as quick as Obi-Wan's. Despite escaping without serious injury, the fight had been brutal - they'd battled up to the point of literal exhaustion.

"And what of those caught in the crossfire?" Qui-Gon asks, folding his hands to look down upon Obi-Wan with a repressive set to his brow. "I assure you, any darksider or Sith will not care who gets hurt in the pursuit their goals. There are many more at risk here than a single Knight."

"I agree," Obi-Wan says, coming to his feet as to face Qui-Gon on even ground. "There _are_ many more at risk here - the entire Order is at risk, master. That's why we can't just idle about, fretting about possible dangers in the shadows. Darth Vader is - was - one of them. We have a unique advantage if we strike now."

"No," he says severely, "that is why we can not act _rashly_ , padawan. Rushing in will only spell disaster - you will lose all you are trying to save." He turns away, moving toward the door to the salle, and Obi-Wan falls into step with him. "Your concern with future events has always blinded you to those taking place in the moment."

It has the air of a finished argument - Qui-Gon is clearly done with him. A pity that Obi-Wan is not finished with _him._ "In this moment, our enemies are setting the stage for our downfall," Obi-Wan says pointedly. "And they will use the boy to do it, if we let them. They didn't get to him first, Qui-Gon. He was once a Jedi."

Qui-Gon stops short of the door, looking at him sharply. "He told you this?" he demands.

"I wouldn't have believed him if he had," he says, tugging restlessly at the sleeve of his robe. He can not speak of the familiarity that Vader showed him - hasn't and will not, uncomfortable with the implications. "Master Yoda agrees with my feeling that he must have lived in the Temple for some time - several years, likely. He isn't Sith enough to have forgotten all his manners."

That revelation disturbs Qui-Gon as much as it does Obi-Wan. His former master worries at his beard; later, he'll be vexed to discover it's unkempt state, as always. "That," he says slowly, "is troubling news indeed."

"You have a skill for understatement, master," Obi-Wan says, relieved that Qui-Gon is listening, annoyed that it has taken the boy to make him listen. "I'm surprised the very notion of a time traveling Sith doesn't give you paroxysms."

Qui-Gon frowns with faint reproach, and Obi-Wan shrugs mildly. "My 'future concerns' have become a present problem. You should be delighted that I am equally as worried with what is happening in the now as you are. What _do_ you intend to do with your Chosen One of prophecy?"

"He cannot be allowed to Fall to the Dark side again," Qui-Gon answers immediately, though his look is forbidding; he's barely biting back a rebuke in answer to Obi-Wan's disrespect. "Ani needs me. I will train him as a Jedi with or without the approval of the Council."

"I'm certain that will be the perfect first lesson for him," he says, and it comes out much more flat than he would like. "Defy the will of the Council when you disagree with it, whether or not it's wise to do so. Qui-Gon, it isn't as though he Fell because he was turned away from the Temple, as we thought."

"I will not condemn him for something he has not yet done," he says with a stubborn set to his brow. "And neither should you, given your eagerness to ally yourself with a Sith Lord."

Obi-Wan can't help the bite in the words when he corrects: " _despite_ him being a Sith lord."

Qui-Gon impatiently turns and opens the door. Stubbornly, Obi-Wan follows him out into the hallway. It's empty at the moment, but out of habit, he sticks as close as he would were this a mission in jeopardy.

Obi-Wan originally found the idea of Anakin being trained as a Jedi Knight ludicrous. He'd assumed young Anakin had been fated to the Jedi Corps, and in the wake of Darth Vader's arrival, he'd spoken stridently against endangering themselves by taking Anakin in - to Qui-Gon alone, at least, given the Council remains unaware of Vader's true identity. Even now, a fairly large part of him warns against training the boy - at least once already he has Fallen, and joined the Sith order. Teaching him to be a Jedi seems a difficult task at best, and an impossible folly at worst.

And yet, cutting him free to perhaps be turned into the kind of monster that the creature on Naboo was is not an option that Obi-Wan can see being viable either. Darth Vader is not Anakin's damnation, but neither is he his salvation. Without a Jedi education, it's entirely possible for the Sith to twist him in something much worse.

The fact that the situation is such that there is something _worse_ than a Sith Lord being held in the belly of the Temple makes Obi-Wan want to check the food in the commissary for poisoning or drugs.

"In any case," he says to Qui-Gon, "I agree. It is vital that the boy be taught how to resist the Dark side of the Force."

"He will be a Jedi," Qui-Gon retorts sternly, but at the same time he looks at Obi-Wan searchingly. "The Council has not changed their stance on this."

"Nor have I," he admits, avoiding his former master's gaze. "But he would be far more dangerous if allowed to go to the Sith. The Council will see that, too."

It's not the kind of logic or reasoning that Obi-Wan expects his former master to agree with, and Qui-Gon does not seem the least appeased. Fine for him: Obi-Wan isn't happy either. If he can't even convince his own master of the good sense in at least hearing Darth Vader out - of at least working with him, with obvious precautions taken - then Obi-Wan has no hope of convincing any of the Council members.

If they have any hope of becoming a weapon strong enough to strike down the master Sith that Darth Vader spoke of, they'll need the strength of the Order behind them. Obi-Wan can not exile the both of them by attempting to break the Sith free. There must be another way to go about this.

"Goodnight, Master Jinn," Obi-Wan says before they part ways - Qui-Gon back to his quarters, shared with his ward, and Obi-Wan to the Knight's wing where the other unsettled knights took their rest. Qui-Gon hums in reply. Obi-Wan only watches for a moment longer - his former master's straight back and proud shoulders disappearing down the hallway.

_Qui-Gon died_.

Qui-Gon died and young Anakin had been trained as a Jedi Knight by an unknown master. The Order fell, and Anakin, not so young, became Darth Vader. Darth Vader heeds Obi-Wan's words, and asks for his help, and says: _even you_. Not as a warning or threat, but as a personal indication of _what an awful future_ it had been to Vader. Not Vader's most significant loss, but an important one nonetheless.

He turns and heads off to an unfamiliar room, and an unfamiliar bed, and a very restless sleep.

* * *

 


	3. it's treason, then

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After being denied by his former master, Obi-Wan only grows more determined - or is that desperate? - but his designs have not gone unnoticed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not yet, it's not.

* * *

 

One day passes - then two, and then three. The tug in the Force lingers like a training burn he hasn't remembered to apply bacta to: never completely forgotten, uncomfortable until prodded into hot pain. Obi-Wan digs through text after holocron after archive, uncertain what he's searching for except that there must be _some_ solution to be found. He wracks his brain over Council appointments and past decisions and missions, but nothing he remembers even toes close to the line of convincing Jedi to work with a darksider.

Qui-Gon might have wisdom to offer, if they were still on speaking terms. Obi-Wan wants to laugh a little hysterically at himself for having come to this, and yet he can't entirely convince himself to try again.

There has to be some way he can convince the Council to work with Darth Vader. Obi-Wan is more than willing to be the firewall between them - the life of one Knight weighs very little against the entire Order. And Obi-Wan has begun to develop the suspicion that Vader will not let him die easily. Whether or not he can be trusted with the fate of the entire Order remains questionable, but with this, Obi-Wan is prepared to make a gamble.

Surely he has faced the Dark more than often enough that he can survive and resist anything Darth Vader turns his way. Surely he has. And if not -

But convincing the Council to agree seems an impossible task, and with their doom looming on the horizon, Obi-Wan finds himself staring into an information terminal in the Archives. The upper reaches of the Temple are wide and open. Despite events of the past, they are still the heart of peace, on Coruscant in the Deep Core. There is no need to defend themselves from intruders - and if there were, the Jedi inside are their strongest defense against attack. Only very few would be foolish enough to encroach upon tens of thousands of active warriors with the Force at their fingertips.

Darksiders, Obi-Wan remembers, are sometimes precisely that foolish.

But the lower levels of the Temple are much more impenetrable. He saw it himself when he'd descended into the depths of the Temple's belly. To where even now, the Force continues to tug with dark whispers and uncomfortable, sulfurous heat - a sore spot on his otherwise unmarred awareness of the Force. Below, the Temple is dense and utilitarian, upholding the living quarters and parks where the Jedi flourish. Where Darth Vader is being held, specifically, feels far from open air. The ventilation system must be -

A sudden flash of self-awareness sends a flush of embarrassed heat crawling up the back of Obi-Wan's neck to curl around his ears. Hastily wiping his search, Obi-Wan logs off the terminal and shuts it down while giving the rest of the Archives a nervous glance. He hears the distant murmur of initiates and the more blunt sounds of complaints from senior padawans, but the secluded corner he'd taken up - sometimes used for activities that would be frowned upon by the Masters of the Order - remains undisturbed.

It isn't something to seriously contemplate, but the quiet desperation jangling Obi-Wan's nerves is difficult to argue against. He hasn't been able to think of another plan. To outlaw them both from the Order and lose the Order's backing and resources would be _incredibly_ foolish.

To never be welcomed among the halls of the Temple where he grew up would be... it makes his chest tight with a clawing fear. But against the notion of the Temple halls barren of Jedi? Of, perhaps, those halls being destroyed, with blaster fire and littered with the bodies of -

Obi-Wan rubs his eyes, breathing through the moment. His restless sleep has been plagued with feverish dreams of the Temple on fire. Of a galaxy barren of Jedi. He dreams of young Anakin, confused and angry and scared, being taken into the embrace of some strange shadow with the same feral, glowing eyes as Darth Vader. He dreams of Qui-Gon shot down by a hundred blaster bolts, bleeding impossible seas and saying: _you must protect him, Obi-Wan_. He dreams himself alone and abandoned in an uncaring galaxy that whispers: _the Jedi deserved it_.

"Dreams pass with time," he says, aloud, hoping that hearing the words will help. It's only his mind feeding into his fears. It only seems so awful because they're fresh. Once he's conquered his fears, they will fade, and it won't seem as bad as all of that.

But right now, in this moment, his fears threaten to overpower him. If the Council will not heed Darth Vader's words, then Obi-Wan's only option _is_ to do as he swore not to, and break Darth Vader out, and make outlaws of them. He would rather never walk the halls of the Temple than see the Order destroyed.

He feels like a newly chosen padawan, hobbling in circles while trying to fix his braid on his own for the first time. Qui-Gon would always scold him and say that he's overthinking it - and maybe he is. But every time he searches his feelings and the Force for answers, all he can focus on is the steady, painful throb of the Dark.

There are no answers there, and neither are there any to be found in the Archives, he decides at last.  Perhaps there aren't any answers to be found anywhere. He wishes there was someone he could turn to for getting his thoughts straight, but he can't let any whisper of this implicate his friends - not if he's taken the steps to look up the architecture of the lower parts of the Temple.

Obi-Wan is sorely aware that he's already implicated _himself_ if something happens to Darth Vader now. A check of the system will reveal that he's been looking into it. He could - should, perhaps - cover his tracks if necessary, but he hopes it won't come to that. He needs to clear his head.

These mornings since his conversation with Darth Vader, Obi-Wan has taken to meditating. He's not overly fond of the practice - one gets out of meditation what one puts in, and Obi-Wan finds he struggles to put much into it at all - but it does at least help him to put his dreams behind him. Freshly reminded of them, however, he struggles not to see every one of his fellow Jedi he passes in the hallways on the floor instead - cut in twain by 'saber blade, or shot down as Qui-Gon in his dreams, though without the endless blood - his waking mind remembers better that blasters are a bloodless killer.

And the Force tugs, and tugs, and tugs, sore and hot and painful, as if his former master is in trouble and needs his help. It insists upon some disaster if Obi-Wan doesn't listen, and yet - it isn't to Qui-Gon's side he'll go if he follows it. If the Council won't allow him to answer the Force, then what paths remain open to Obi-Wan?

It's his fears getting the worse of him, he thinks, but it's difficult to dismiss them when they're based on realities and not unseen things in the shadows. The Sith are real, and Darth Vader is real, and the Order really fell in the future that looms ahead of them. What is Obi-Wan prepared to do to avert it?

The distant patter and peak of youngling voices suddenly intrudes on his thoughts - there's an unfamiliar rhythm to it, blunt and heavy, with round consonants that fall heavier than he's used to hearing. Obi-Wan takes a brief moment to realize that he's retreated toward the training salles, away from the quiet of the gardens and the Archive. His feet know him better than he knows himself, he thinks briefly - trashing a training droid or two might actually help him put order to his dire thoughts. If he can find a friendly face to spar against, that might be even better.

For a moment, Obi-Wan hesitates, weighing his mood against the odd sounds of the younglings' chatter. It's probably nothing, the strange way it's intruding on his thoughts or no - someone has probably accessed a holo they shouldn't. Likely nothing too bad, but illicit for younglings all the same.

A month ago, Senior Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi would have shaken his head and pretended not to have heard. Knight Kenobi, his restless sleep plagued with wretched dreams and uncomfortably aware that he would one day be expected to take a padawan on, sighs and changes his path from the main hallway down toward the youngling's salles.

The first few salles are empty, the doors closed and the indicators unlit. It's when he comes to the fifth that he discovers where they're hiding. The younglings have carefully stuck one of their fellow's robes in the doorway, just so to prevent it from showing from the hallway but also to keep the door from closing completely and lighting up as occupied. It prevents the security droids from being deployed to observe, as is standard for all salles since Obi-Wan was an initiate, but it also prevents the room from being soundproofed as it should be.

Any caution the practice might have originally had has been thrown out, as Obi-Wan hears very clearly through the unsealed door, "doesn't matter, they won't make you a padawan," and another youngling say, "you don't even understand what a Jedi is, do you?"

"I reckon Qui-Gon knows better'n _you_ ," snaps another.

Not every youngling developes what's referred to as an upper-level- or scholar- Coruscanti accent like Obi-Wan did, but many of them do. Most of them develop what the galaxy considers to be the Mid Rim 'neutral' accent based on the large variety of Basic dialects spoken on Coruscant in particular, and a fairly large percentage vary across the multitude of Inner Core dialects and accents, largely depending on their Creche Masters and early teachers.

Not a single one speaks with the heavy, blunt sounds of Hutt-accented Outer Rim Basic.

"Master Jinn just feels sorry for you," one youngling says, mild and factual. "He won't take another padawan since Knight Kenobi was his last. And if he were to, it wouldn't be a know-nothing like _you_."

"I know a lot more'n you," Anakin snaps meanly. "Who cares about some old government with old stupid laws? What's that got to do with saving anyone, huh? I bet I've done a lot more'n the whole _lot_ of you to help people!"

One clucks her tongue in clumsy imitation of a disapproving Creche Master. " _See?_ " she says. "Master Jinn is a negotiator. There's no way he'd chose someone who can't even remember the laws of _one_ government!"

The door slides open under Obi-Wan's palm, the small, beige initiate's robe falling to the floor with a flutter. "And tell me-" Obi-Wan says, taking in the sight of four young initiates with wide startled eyes, standing between young Anakin and the doorway. His former master's ward stands with feet and shoulders squared, a discarded pad on the salle floor behind him, and dried tracks on his face -"which Jedi Master would be most pleased if they overheard this conversation?"

No one answers him. The initiates' expressions are gormless, staring at him with slack, startled jaws. By Obi-Wan's estimates, they're Padawan hopefuls, a bit older than young Anakin but not by much. They're more bewildered than frightened by his appearance. Beyond them, Anakin's stiff, sullen face has been turned to the ground - his shoulders hunched instead of squared, like he expects a blow to befall him.

"Although, calling it a conversation is a touch generous, I think," Obi-Wan continues tonelessly. "What do the Creche Masters call it when four younglings gang up on one? Whatever it is, I doubt that it falls in line with the Order's code of conduct. To know that their very own younglings were behaving so uncivilly - I imagine that would feel… incredibly disappointing."

His words find their marks - the Twi'lek ducks his head down so far his chin is nearly touching his chest, and the Mirialan's face has gone from a soft spring green to nearly yellow. Their Rodian number is attempting to melt into invisibility behind the others, and mostly managing thanks to the young human or near-human girl who would be their ringleader, at a guess. The look on her face is less shame and more consternation at being caught.

"If younglings _I_ had taught, and cared after, were found to be bullying another youngling, I would wonder where I had gone wrong in teaching them generosity and compassion," Obi-Wan says, mild as milk. "Someone who could be cruel to another certainly doesn't understand what it means to be a Jedi, don't you agree?"

The girl sputters. "I," she says, and then, "it _is_ compassion, Knight Kenobi! They'll never train _him_ as a Jedi! Letting - letting him think so what's cruel!"

There is a grain of truth there. Obi-Wan doesn't disagree. He still can not see the Council agreeing to train Anakin Skywalker as a Jedi Knight, no matter what his midichlorian count is, no matter how much Qui-Gon Jinn swears that he must be trained as the Chosen One, and not even if Obi-Wan tries to reason to them that grounding Anakin into the Light is vital to their survival.

Just like he can not see them allowing him to work with Darth Vader to save them.

"Oh, well, if your intention was compassion -" he says - "if you meant to _help_ Anakin, that changes everything, doesn't it? It's only the execution of that compassion that leaves so very much to be desired. For example, a Jedi certainly _means_ to negotiate peace between two peoples. It's such a pity that Jedi proceeded in such a clumsy manner that they've been driven to make war instead."

"But they _can't_ train him!" the girl bursts out. "There aren't enough masters!"

Obi-Wan falls silent. Even to this day, and for the foreseeable future, there are so many younglings being brought into the Temple, and yet and yet only so many masters who survive year after year. It takes at least a decade to train a padawan to knighthood - sometimes longer, such as in Obi-Wan's case. It's been twelve years, but he can remember how it felt to be so desperate to be taken on. Some initiates discover early if they have a knight waiting on them to be ready to become padawans, but for many, it's a very different story.

"It is a master's choice whether or not they take on a padawan," Obi-Wan says, more gently. The initiates, sensing his change in mood, stop cowering quite so much and peer up at him with cautious attention. The weight of it feels awkward and strange. "Anakin can't change that any more than you can. Masters are much more wise of the ways of the Force than you or I." The irony of saying so when he is despairing of the Council listening to Vader is not lost on him, but he ignores the twist that threatens to distort his mouth, saying pointedly: "you don't better your chances of being chosen by acting on your fears. Is that not the first lesson you learn? When you give into your fears, then you step on the path to the dark side."

"Yes, Knight Kenobi," the Mirialan speaks up, dipping into a bow as if this were a classroom. Obi-Wan is slightly taken aback when the gesture is echoed by the others - quickly in the Twi'lek's case, more reluctantly in their ringleader's case. The young Rodian behind her fumbles into something more akin a curtsy.

"Thank you for reminding us of our lessons, Knight Kenobi," the Twi'lek pipes, by rote but not insincerely.

If nothing else, those two should be a bit more reluctant to follow the girl's lead, Obi-Wan thinks, shifting to the side of the door. _She_ has not been pleased by Obi-Wan's lecturing. If someone doesn't follow up with her Creche Master, then she'll probably prove to be further trouble. There are similar types of people all across the galaxy, and being Force sensitive or raised in the Temple doesn't always put an end to self-serving behavior. As the initiates scurry by him, Obi-Wan makes a mental note to speak to _someone_ about it.

It has at least helped remind him to keep his own head on straight. He has to stand firm against his own fears or find himself succumbing to the same dark side that devoured Anakin and spat Vader out.

"I can take care of myself, you know," Anakin says. His Outer Rim accent has evaporated, and in contrast, Obi-Wan can hear the specific intonations that Qui-Gon favors. Anakin picks the discarded pad up off the floor, and refuses to look in Obi-Wan's direction. "A bunch of kids don't scare _me_ ," he adds. "I've seen a lot worse than them. Actual murderers that'd kill me in cold blood, even."

Obi-Wan silently marvels that Anakin never grows out of thrusting the ugly side of things in people's faces to try to intimidate them. Always: _I've faced worse than_ _you. _ He wonders what it is about himself that provokes them into going onto the offensive.

"While I'm certain you have," Obi-Wan says, a little frustrated and only incredulously amused, "Jedi younglings aren't quite as frightening or as serious as that. The next time something like this happens, you must tell Qui-Gon about it, rather than rising to their taunts."

Young Anakin appears deeply unimpressed with the advice; Obi-Wan doesn't need to see his face to sense the full-bodied eyeroll he engages in. "Yes, Knight Kenobi," he says, mocking the younglings' form of address.

Obi-Wan crosses his arms. Young Anakin will be a lot harder to deal with than the initiates - dealing with rambunctious younglings at all is likely still beyond his duties to the Order, he decides; he'll take dealing with the adult version, Sith Lord and all, over trying to reason with a nine-year-old. "I trust you can find your own way back to Master Jinn's quarters?" he asks dryly.

"Uh-huh," Anakin agrees suspiciously. He seems to expect a lecture of some sort, but clearly recognizes a dismissal when he hears one: in moments, he's out the training salle door and disappearing off down the hall. Obi-Wan briefly contemplates picking up the abandoned robe the initiates left behind before deciding that he hasn't noticed it at all, stepping back and closing the door in the 'unoccupied' position. Let that be a final lesson to whichever one it was.

"That was well handled."

Obi-Wan only narrowly avoids startling into an offensive gesture himself. He might be slightly more on edge than he'd given himself credit for. "Master Tholme," he says, turning to spot the man lingering just out of Obi-Wan's normal sphere of awareness. He certainly _must_ be distracted if he's being snuck up on like this - though Tholme most definitely has a reputation for skulking about unnoticed by other masters.

Tholme inclines his head in acknowledgement. "For a new-cut Knight," he amends dryly. "There is nothing elegant about a Knight lecturing initiates as if they were foreign dignitaries and adults at that, of course."

A flush of embarrassed heat sears up the back of his neck. "Yes, well," he flusters. "I will endeavor to do better next time - should there be a next time."

"There will be many, if you take a padawan yourself," he advises, but wryly. "Quinlan has always specialized in provoking emotional responses from me, whether I liked it or not."

Obi-Wan doesn't know Quinlan's master all that well - he worked mostly with Quinlan himself, not his master - but it still feels odd for the man to approach him more as an equal than a misbehaving padawan. "I think Quinlan specializes in provoking emotional responses from everyone," he offers. Any time that Obi-Wan thinks that he has a handle on his own temper, Quinlan is usually not far behind, reminding him that he still has much to learn.

"There's merit to that idea," Tholme acknowledges. He studies Obi-Wan for a moment with green eyes sharp enough to cut transparisteel. "A little droid informed me you'd been haunting the Archives and frightening initiates."

Alarm shoots through him. Obi-Wan wrinkles his brow into puzzlement. "I'm afraid my thoughts have been troubling me of late, master," he says. "It's difficult to be trapped in the Temple when I'd rather learn more about the dark warrior that attacked us."

"Somehow I don't think that is the dark warrior you're so concerned with," he says.

Obi-Wan cocks his head, frowning slightly. "Master?"

"Before doing something so stunningly stupid it can't be _undone_ , you should exhaust all other options, Kenobi," Tholme tells him on no uncertain terms, the scathing tone of a disappointed master.

Shame and embarrassment wash over him - more a reaction to the tone itself than the content of the words. He supposes it's only fair that after he spent some time lecturing initiates for their poor decisions that a master lectures him about his - and he should have known that _Tholme_ would be watching him closely enough to be the first to know if Obi-Wan started considering doing impossibly stupid things.

"It certainly isn't my first choice," Obi-Wan says, giving up the pretense of not knowing the meaning of Tholme's warnings. "I _have_ realized I was allowing my fears to get the best of me, Master. Though in this case, I think giving my sympathies away would hinder that 'stunningly stupid' last resort."

"You would almost be a good fit for a Watchman, Kenobi," Tholme says, "though your habit of trusting the word of a self-admitted Sith Lord is slightly troubling."

"Yes, Master," he says. He wants to ask if Tholme has been down to see Vader - Tholme would know the difference in the feel of the Dark there, he thinks - but that's edging dangerously close to disrespect when as far as he can tell, Quinlan's master is trying to help him.

Tholme shifts pass Obi-Wan, and he moves to join the master in heading back toward the hallway that will lead them to the salles most frequently used by knights and masters. Given Quinlan's suspicious nature, the fact that he holds Master Tholme in such high regard gives Obi-Wan pause. Before he was Quinlan's master, he was a Watchman himself, out in the vast reaches of known space bringing peace to the systems he could.

"Sith Lord or not," he ventures cautiously, "I do not believe that Darth Vader is being deceptive, Master Tholme. Not about this." The master's stern visage is inscrutable as always; his sharp eyes do not even glance in Obi-Wan's direction. Putting his trust in Quinlan's instincts, Obi-Wan prods: "It seems unwise to risk the entire Order on misliking the source of the warning."

"Any conman or darksider would only be to happy to exploit that leniency of yours, Kenobi," Tholme says coolly. "We thought the Sith Order dead for millennia, and now we've encountered two of their number in the same go." He catches the edge of the sharp look Obi-Wan gives him. "You and I both know they're no regular grade of darksider," he acknowledges flatly.

"And Darth Vader is not the same as the zabrak we faced on Naboo," Obi-Wan says.

Tholme makes a flat noise of acknowledgement. "For how long," he muses.

"Master?"

Tholme comes to a stop in the middle of the hallway. It isn't empty, but few Jedi seek out the salles this late in the day, and so the few masters and knights that they've encountered are more mindful of their own troubles. In the space between Jedi, Tholme's gaze seems to cut right through Obi-Wan. "His condition seemed more or less stable while he was waiting impatiently for news from Naboo," he says. "But over the last few days, he's succumbed even further to the Dark side."

"He's a _Sith_ ," Obi-Wan says incredulously.

"The Dark side is treacherous; you know this, Kenobi," Tholme says sharply. "You said yourself that he wasn't like the Sith we faced on Naboo - but he could be. He could be much worse than that. The Force is strong in him - it is no small stream that flows through him. It will eat away at him until there's nothing remotely human left."

Obi-Wan doesn't so much as twitch, no matter how he wants to squirm like a padawan being brought to task. Tholme's words ring true - in the same manner that Darth Vader's did, with no harmony or discordance from the Force to sway him either way. Tholme's words don't strike him as _wrong,_ necessarily, but having a master face him and say it so blatantly makes him incredibly uneasy.

"What are you suggesting, Master?" he asks plainly.

"I suggest nothing," Tholme says, turning away. His pace is slow but stern and deliberate, and so Obi-Wan reluctantly follows once more. "However, I do have concerns. The other masters will say that my time as a Watchman has made me paranoid and suspicious. Perhaps they're right. My duties in far systems have often lead to disturbing discoveries - but it's the things I see at the heart of the Order that disturb me the most."

Were it not for the way Tholme treated his indiscretion as if he were merely an initiate who had failed to do his assigned work, Obi-Wan would almost certainly think it was his actions that the master is so disturbed by - but Tholme is Quinlan's master, after all, and Quinlan often has questionable judgement at best. As a matter of fact, were Quinlan at the Temple, Obi-Wan is fairly certain his friend would be right here with him, helping him do it.

The thought stalls him: the idea of Quinlan approving his plan makes Obi-Wan seriously reconsider just how smart of one it was in the first place. Obi-Wan is supposed to be the reasonable one, and yet here he is, giving serious consideration to committing to a plan just short of treason!

Everything seemed so sure only a few months ago, Obi-Wan remembers with a pang: before Naboo. Back when his largest frustration was being Qui-Gon's padawan and feeling like being raised at the knee of a maverick was now hindering his advancement - wondering when he might nominated for the Knight's Trials. Hoping to escape his master's shadow and make a name for just himself, to become a force for the Light, shining into the Darkness.

Instead, he's still here at the Order, with an awful future on the horizon, a Sith Lord sealed into the belly of the Temple, his own treachery, and a friend's Master whispering sinister implications in his ear.

"The Senate keeps the Jedi busy enforcing their wishes," Tholme continues. "I wonder if we should be paying greater attention to what happens inside our own home."

"Have you not spoken to the Council about these concerns?" he asks. As much as Darth Vader's captivity troubles Obi-Wan, he has the sense that it isn't the matter that concerns Tholme. For one, Darth Vader has nothing to do with the Senate, and as troubling as it is to have a man jailed who only professes to wish to save the Order, it's not quite as much as to be _disturbing_. "Surely there are others who can sympathize, or perhaps investigate your suspicions."

"It would be handy if that were so, but for someone in my position, it's more complicated," he says. "They won't trust me on this matter, no matter how much trust the Council has for me otherwise. If I had evidence to support my concerns, then perhaps then I could use that to convince them." Glancing at Obi-Wan, he says, "the harder you push something, the more willfully blind some become."

"My master often said something similar," he says, reflecting on it. Given that Qui-Gon was also prone to being quite stubborn when the situation least called for it, Obi-Wan may have forgotten that as it applied to others. "Of course, he was also of the opinion that it's easier to ask forgiveness after the fact."

"A fine tactic, so long as it isn't treated as the solution for every obstacle, no matter how small," Tholme says. "Adhering to the expected standards of conduct, while watching for danger is wiser in most situations. Better to be known as a diplomat than a maverick, Knight Kenobi."

Heat flickers around his neck, gentle and embarrassed. "I have perhaps learned too well at Master Jinn's side," he admits. He often despaired and complained about his former master's tactics, and yet the instant he encountered resistance, he was - what? Going to outlaw himself and Vader from the Order? - without even truly trying to avoid doing so. "What will you do, then, Master Tholme?"

"The same," he says vaguely. "I prefer to wait and watch for opportunities. It's vital to have a good understanding of the situation before acting."

It's what Obi-Wan should have been doing, instead of getting wrapped up in the Archive, searching for answers that didn't exist. If he had found anything that had given him the edge he was looking for, he would have - what? Tried pushing the Council on this matter? _Blackmailing_ them? He would have completely destroyed what footing he had in the Order - it would have certainly resulted in a censure.

Abashed, he accepts the implied chastisement. "I understand, Master Tholme."

"Good," Tholme says, coming to stop before a salle door. Turning, he regards Obi-Wan with sharp eyes. "Now, how about a spar, Knight Kenobi?"

It takes Obi-Wan a surprised moment to respond. Although a spar is the reason he came to this part of the Temple, he'd put it out of mind after encountering young Anakin and the initiates. He had barely noticed Tholme guiding them toward the sparring salles, which were large enough to permit two skilled duelist as well as spectators - assuming it was part of the cover Tholme was providing for them both, considering Obi-Wan's indiscretions.

"I'd be honored," Obi-Wan says, with the kind of tone and smile that would have had Bant admonishing him on reflex.

Tholme, unimpressed, merely says, "Try telling me that again at the end of it. There must be _some_ repercussions for your recklessness." In other words: Tholme aims to trounce him - this is less a spar and more a punishment. Despite that, Obi-Wan's smile doesn't waver as he bows deeply, a student at the mercy of a master.

"You are welcome to your pound of flesh - _if_ you can take it, Master Tholme." The salle door slides open, and Obi-Wan follows Tholme inside, his lightsaber a reassuring weight at his hip, and his robe barely a whisper at the back of his heel.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> actually the second half of chapter two, it just took me a bit longer to fix up

**Author's Note:**

> This idea/Au was cooked up by [@likealeafonthewind](http://likealeafonthewind.tumblr.com/)/[anecdotalist](http://archiveofourown.org/users/anecdotalist/pseuds/anecdotalist) when I began whinging about wanting Vader to timetravel for once. Likealeaf has kindly consented to continue brainstorming with me and helping me when I get stuck~


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